


Chase the Dark

by dls



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - The Witcher Fusion, Eames' Stupid Cupid Exchange, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:26:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22708453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dls/pseuds/dls
Summary: Eames travels the Continent in search of a muse, he finds one in a tavern in Posada.
Relationships: Arthur/Eames (Inception)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 61
Collections: Eames' Stupid Cupid 2020





	1. Fic

**Author's Note:**

  * For [teacuphuman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/teacuphuman/gifts).



> Created as part of the Eames' Stupid Cupid gift exchange. The prompt I received from teacuphuman was “IDGAF” which I took to mean that it's up to my discretion. And since The Witcher has taken over my brain...this happened. ;)
> 
> Beta-ed by [Arboreal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arboreal/pseuds/Arboreal).
> 
> References/Quotes:   
>  Title from "Driving Through a Dream" by Andrew McMahon.   
>  _The Witcher (S01E02)_.

As Eames told his fellow traveling bard Dominic once, writing a ballad that will immortalize its author's name isn't impossible. It's just bloody difficult.

First, you need a muse. Which are in shorter supply than one might think. Dominic has been chasing after his, the lovely daughter of an Oxenfurt professor, for years. Eames thinks it's a bit of a lost cause and, though unrequited love is a popular theme, Dominic should really try his hand at something new.

Second, you need an opportunity. An event that resonates with the masses, something distinctive yet common, farfetched yet connected to their daily lives. Something that toes the line between fiction and fact, both and neither at the same time.

Third, and this is the trickiest one of all, you need quite a bit of luck. Talent doesn't always bring success and success rarely means talent. Yusuf is one of the best painters Eames knows and he makes his coin gathering herbs for alchemists instead of grounding down the leaves and petals for new paint.

Fourth-

Well, this is getting a bit tedious.

The point is that Eames is working on all these elements that will garner him fame and fortune and the _forever_ that all scholars of the arts dream of. To live on in songs and stories long after their blood and bones turn to rust and dust.

Oh, that's quite good, actually. He should write this down.

Eames abandons his search for parchment and quill when the tavern doors slammed open with a bang.

A Witcher.

For a group that's supposed to blend into the shadows - or is it exist in shadows? - they are impossible to miss.

What with the full armor, unusual in the sweltering summer heat, and two scabbards - one sword silver and the other iron, if the legends were true - strapped at his hips. Not to mention the rather threatening aura surrounding the Witcher and making him seem more imposing than his lean stature, elongated further by the dark hair covering most of his back and obscuring his face, would otherwise suggest. 

Of course, it could have just been another soldier with little care for his appearance but Eames is seldom wrong about the dangerous things and people in life. In his experience, the risk only sweetens the reward.

What's the point of chasing after something that wouldn't chase you back?

Eames waits until the Witcher has his ale and settles at a table in the back before making his approach with his arms open and hips swaying. Harmlessness with a bit of seduction is a tried-and-true combination to get stories for his songs and his hands up skirts. Or inside breeches. He doesn't discriminate. "I love the way you just sit in the corner and brood."

The Witcher scowls, his features delicate even when twisted by disdain.

Up close, Eames sees that he's a stunning study in contrasts. Pale skin and dark leather. Boyish face and old eyes. Elegant wrists and calloused palms. Opposites and extremes that have Eames' mind spinning tales and sonnets to fill the space in between. 

"I'm here to drink alone." The Witcher's voice is all gravel and boredom.

A temptation and a challenge to Eames' eager ears. "I'll leave you to it-" 

The Witcher nods, dismissive. 

"-after you give me a review of my performance." He grins, dragging his tongue over his crooked teeth; a flaw is no longer a flaw if you highlight it with confidence. "Three words or less."

Silence stretches between them, thin and taut. 

Eames thrives on the tension.

The Witcher does not and, surprisingly, chooses flight instead of fight. He drains the rest of his ale in a single gulp and rises with a grunt. He is of similar height to Eames and much slighter, unexpected for a monster hunter, but there is strength in that willowy frame. A thin blade can do far more damage than a heavy club. 

"Come now, don't be a stick in the mud." Eames reaches for the Witcher's arm on a reckless gamble that the Witcher wouldn't remove it from his body.

Judging by the way the gloved hand twitches toward the hilt, it's rather a close call. The best kind. The kind that sends a tingle down Eames' spine and settles hot in his belly, spreading fire throughout his veins and setting his nerves ablaze.

Normal people, as Yusuf pointed out, don't react this way to bodily harm.

Maybe, Eames concedes as he holds the Witcher's glare without fear, his annoyingly perceptive friend wasn't entirely wrong.

Eames wins, though, in the end.

The Witcher sighs with something almost like approval in his lovely brown eyes, warm and rich except for the slitted pupils. "Lacks specificity." 

Oh, tagging along will be less of a struggle - none, even - if this is how quickly the Witcher relents when faced with Eames' unique brand of tenacity.

"Two words, rather efficient of you, isn't it? And well said too." Eames admits easily. He has been hedging the details in his songs, better to be vague than to be proven wrong. Pulling himself to a stand, he continues. "It's rather generous of you to invite me along on your next hunt so that I can gather material for my new ballad! An epic one, I'm certain it will be-"

A fist slams into his gut. 

"Unhand me." 

Eames does not, his hold on the Witcher the only reason he's still upright. "Two words again?" He croaks. "You've got to dream bigger, darling. Use three words next time, perhaps?" 

"Go away." The Witcher pauses, a flash of dimples peeking out enticingly beneath the curtain of hair. "Now." Then he kicks Eames behind the knees, forcing Eames to release his grip to break his fall with his hands hastily thrown on the floor.

It isn't the most dignified position Eames has been in around a potential muse but it isn't the least either, so he brushes it aside as a minor setback and scrambles after the Witcher, who is already by the door.

Wherever the Witcher leads, Eames is sure that it will be an adventure of a lifetime. Death and danger and, he hopes, dimples.


	2. Moodboard

**Author's Note:**

> [dls-ao3.tumblr.com/](https://dls-ao3.tumblr.com/)


End file.
